


Hunting for a Tree

by JebWritesStuff



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Other, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28276449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JebWritesStuff/pseuds/JebWritesStuff
Summary: A reluctant Harry joins Ginny on her quest to find the perfect magical Christmas tree for their first Christmas together.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14
Collections: 2020 Hinny Discord Incognito Elf Exchange!





	Hunting for a Tree

**Author's Note:**

> AN: This was my first ever Harry/Ginny fic, written for Hinny discord user Joyfulluv in the Christmas Incognito Elf exchange. It definitely was a joy to write, and I certainly wouldn't rule out more Hinny works in the future!

“Ginny, explain to me again why we can’t just do what Ron, Hermione and everyone else is doing, and get a normal Christmas tree from the Muggle shops? Y’know, like  _ sane _ people?” Harry asked exasperatedly. Normally he’d be up for any excuse to visit Diagon Alley, but it was freezing cold, and he just wanted to put his feet up with a nice bowl of stew and warm his toes by the fire. Ginny turned to him and smirked, and Harry couldn’t help but smile a little at her childish glee.    
  
“Oh, don’t be a humbug, Harry - or a  _ grinch,  _ as Hermione keeps saying.”    
Ginny wrinkled her nose as she pronounced ‘grinch’ as if it were some particularly unpleasant smell.    
“We simply have to get a magical tree! There’s so many different beautiful ones to choose from, and besides, it’s our first Christmas together. Don’t you think that we should celebrate it, I don’t know, a little extra- _ specially? _ ” she continued, blushing slightly. Even after nearly four years together, the fact that she and Harry were now living in their own home still made her giddy.   
  
“I  _ suppose  _ it’d brighten up Grimmauld Place. After all, we haven’t given Kreacher much in the way of festive decoration. Although, I’ve never seen a Christmas shop in Diagon Alley - don’t tell me we’re buying some cursed tree from round the back of Fortescue’s?” Harry replied, trying to play the part of the cantankerous husband, and failing to prevent a smirk from breaking out on his face. Ginny’s enthusiasm was just that infectious. She reached up and playfully pulled the fringe of his beanie down, covering his eyes.   
  
“Don’t let Fernando Fortescue hear you say that!” she giggled. “He might not serve us again!”   
  


“His dad loved me, I was his best customer back in the day,” noted Harry drily, “so I don’t think old Florean would be too happy with his son losing such a valued customer.”   
  
“Ah, the great Harry Potter, Vanquisher of the Dark Lord, Auror-in-training, and Wizarding Britain’s biggest consumer of strawberry, peanut and treacle sundaes. Remind me not to get on your bad side.” Ginny joked. In response, Harry put his arm around her neck; she leaned her head on his shoulder, and for a moment they stood like that in the cold, watching the alley’s lights twinkle like little yellow stars.   
  
Suddenly Ginny pulled away and grabbed Harry by the hand, pulling him down the street. The swift movement jerked Harry from his reverie, and almost sent him facefirst onto the cobbled streets. Stumbling and biting back a muffled curse, Harry glanced at Ginny witheringly. She smirked back, sides shaking with suppressed laughter.   
  
“What’d you do that for?” asked Harry in consternation.   
“You just looked so surprised, like you were asleep and someone shone a torch in your eyes. Sorry.” Ginny replied, clearly not sorry at all. A tiny giggle escaped her lips, and Harry rolled his eyes.   
“Alright, c’mon then. Where is this Christmas tree store of yours?”    
“Just down here! Follow me.”   
The two of them walked arm-in-arm, past Madam Malkin’s and the Amanuensis Quills store. Both shops were glittering with lights, and Madam Malkin’s appeared to have a huge fur coat modeled after Father Christmas’s hanging in the window. Harry whistled at the sight of it.   
  


“That coat’s massive, Gin! D’you reckon we could fit Hagrid in it?” Harry chuckled.   
  


“We could have a decent try, I s’pose. It’d fit over the both of us easily.” she replied absentmindedly, and kept strolling down the street.   
  
Harry and Ginny were now opposite Gringotts, and Harry stared up at the stone facade of the wizarding bank, impressed. It wasn’t often he and Ginny came up from Devon to visit the Alley, and Gringotts seemed to get bigger and more imposing every time he visited. The front of the bank was on a slight lean, giving Harry the illusion of the buildings behind it pushing forward, as if Gringotts was in the front of a queue.   
  
“Come on Harry, stop dawdling! I thought you said you wanted to get the tree, what’s the matter?” Ginny called from somewhere up ahead. Harry whipped around, more than a little surprised - he knew the alley extended past Gringotts, but he’d never actually been up there - unless his sojourn into Knockturn Alley eight years ago counted.   
  
“Nothing, nothing. I, just, um, I haven’t been this far up Diagon Alley before…” responded Harry, feeling slightly embarrassed.   
  
“Oh, well this’ll be fun then! C’mon, it’s not far!” Ginny grinned back at him, and tugged him to the left, off the main street and towards a silvery metal archway ringed with tiny multicoloured lights. The air felt warmer, somehow, and Harry relaxed, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and tugging off his gloves before threading his fingers back through Ginny’s. Up ahead, a large rectangular stone fountain stood, its water frozen in a huge arc hanging over the street. Harry gaped at it in awe, and Ginny nudged him gently.   
  
“Careful; you leave your mouth open like that and you’ll catch flies!” she joked.   
  
“What is this place?” inquired Harry, still lost in amazement.   
  
Ginny cleared her throat dramatically, and spoke in a deep, gravelly voice rather more suited to Hagrid than herself:   
  
“Welcome, Harry, to Whimsic Alley!”   
  
She chortled, and after a moment, Harry looked back at her and smirked.   
  
“Anything for a bit of theatrics, eh, Gin?”

“Too right; you know, I haven’t had this much fun with introductions since we got Ron acquainted with that Muggle car of Hermione’s.”   
  
Harry groaned. Ron’s ‘driving lessons’ in Hermione’s station wagon had been an experience he’d much sooner forget; between the two flattened postboxes, hastily repaired hedges and profuse apologies to several neighbours, Harry still couldn’t decide what part of the experience was worst.

  
“You call that ‘fun’, I call it bloody terrifying.” 

“Ah well, they’re roughly the same thing aren’t they?”

  
A wizarding street band was performing a rendition of Jingle Bells beside the fountain. The tune sounded softer, mellower than the traditional Jingle Bells song, and Harry fished in his pocket for some change to give. His fingers brushed the lining of his jeans pocket before pulling out a silver Sickle. Grinning, he flipped it into a felt-lined case at the bandmembers’ feet; in response, they winked at him and grinned, and one wizard let off a particularly flamboyant trombone solo that had Ginny and Harry clapping along.   
  
After the band had finished, Ginny led Harry over to a small shop with a glowing green, white and red awning, that looked like it had been squeezed between the two buildings either side of it as a last-minute design. Harry’s unasked question about which store it was was immediately answered by a glittering pine tree beside the front entrance, festooned with baubles and tinsel that constantly changed colour. They pushed their way inside, and a gently tinkling bell greeted their arrival. Harry gazed around in awe. The shop was far bigger on the inside than its cosy exterior let on; an immense vaulted ceiling stretched up almost a hundred feet above his head, with rows and rows of lanterns illuminating the wood paneled walls. A stained glass skylight cast the moonlight in a yellow glow; combined with the homely orange tint of the lanterns, Harry felt an immediate sense of grandeur.   
  
Of course, the main stars of the attraction were the trees themselves, and Harry had never seen such an incredible variety. There were miniscule potted trees, barely six inches tall, and some trees that Harry could’ve sworn were ripped straight out of the Forbidden Forest; their tips brushed the impossibly high ceiling overhead.   
  
A sudden booming voice shocked Harry, and he stared ahead at the source of the noise. Behind an ornate mahogany desk trimmed with gold fastenings and several silver and gold trees, stood a familiar looking portly man. Harry’s first thought was that Professor Slughorn had retired and purchased a Christmas tree store, but on closer inspection, he noticed several key differences; the man’s moustache was far smaller and much more neatly trimmed, the faint ring of hair Harry had mistaken for Slughorn’s silvery wisps was actually streaked with gold, and the man’s eyes seemed to be kinder, brighter somehow.   
  
“Well, well, well! If it isn’t little Ginevra Weasley! I haven’t seen you in here in a time and a half - why, you were barely half the height you are now, and quite the beauty you’ve grown into, hmm?” the man grinned jovially at Ginny, and Harry couldn’t help but feel at ease with the man’s grandfatherly air.

“Oh, you flatter me, Waldo. Anyway, it’s been a while since I was called Ginevra - most people apart from older family members, just call me Ginny.” she replied warmly.   
  
“Ah, well, we old duffers are quite set in our ways aren’t we?” he chuckled. “I do apologise, Ginny. Oh - and who might this be?” the man inquired, for he had just noticed Harry. Harry waved sheepishly and moved forward to shake the man’s hand.   
“I’m Harry, Harry Potter - Ginny’s fiancee. A pleasure to meet you, sir.” Harry smiled.   
  
“Waldo Wilikins, Mr Potter, owner of this fine establishment.” the old man crowed, crushing Harry’s hand in a surprisingly firm grip. “Forgive my fawning, Mr. Potter, but as a member of the wizarding community, I owe you a tremendous debt; it’s a real honour to finally meet you. And - fiancee?” he winked and Ginny, who blushed scarlet and nodded. “You two are lucky to have each other. I’ll just take this opportunity to wish you both well for the future - I have a sense you’re going to build quite the family.”    
  
Harry grinned in response, slightly confused, and Ginny simply blushed an even deeper red looking at her toes. Waldo Wilikins chortled knowingly.   
  
“Ah, young love, something we elderly people observe all too fondly. Now, what can I do for you?” he beamed at them, his eyes twinkling.   
  
“Well, we’re having our first Christmas together in our own place, and, well, Ginny recommended this place to get a Christmas tree.” Harry responded, slightly confused: didn’t this man only sell trees, and if so shouldn’t it be obvious what they were here for?   
  
“Right she was. Wilikins’ Arboreal Emporium is the best place, in Diagon Alley or anywhere else, to grab yourself a proper magical Christmas tree.” Waldo winked again at them.   
  


“Now, did you two have anything particular in mind?’   
Harry and Ginny exchanged a look and shook their heads.   
  


“We didn’t really think that far ahead.” mumbled Ginny sheepishly.   
  


“Not to worry!” Waldo chortled. “I’m sure we can show you around, and you could pick out something you’d like.”   
  
Waldo grabbed a stubby walking stick lying by the side of the desk. The stick seemed to be made of the same mahogany wood as the desk, and had a small silver ball as a grip, which fit snugly in Waldo’s gnarled palm. The old man scanned the store like a bloodhound, before spotting a young boy, perhaps thirteen or fourteen years old, with curly blonde hair, walking past. He cradled a large wooden crate, and seemed to be struggling to heave it up as he walked.   
  
“Bertrand. Oi, Bertrand!” Waldo hollered. The young man - presumably named Bertrand - spun around, and upon seeing Waldo, hurriedly placed the box on the ground and smiled nervously. Harry was strongly reminded of Neville Longbottom’s chronic awkwardness in their younger days, and grinned at the boy in what he hoped was a reassuring way. The boy didn’t notice, and looked Waldo straight in the eye.   
“Yes, Great-Grandpa?” Bertrand asked, with a light tremor in his voice.   
  


“Could you man the counter for a moment? I’ve got to show these two customers around.”    
  


“Um, sure thing.” the boy replied, and he strode over to take Waldo’s place behind the counter.   
  


“Good lad.” Waldo patted his great-grandson on the shoulder, then beckoned for Harry and Ginny to follow him.   
  


“C’mon you two lovebirds! Let’s find you a Christmas tree!”   
  
Waldo stumped across the floor towards the rows of trees, whistling happily and banging his stick enthusiastically as he walked. Harry was slightly bewildered; he looked at Ginny, who simply grinned at him; clearly, this must be regular for the old fellow. The pair followed Waldo to a smallish pine tree, about six feet tall. The tree was like a regular old pine that you might find in any forest in Britain, except for one crucial detail; the needles and leaves were a bright, almost fluorescent blue.   
  
“Impressive, isn’t she? This here’s a prime example of the New Zealand sapphire pine; they grow in a magical reserve just off the coast of the South Island. These specimens are incredibly rare; I’m lucky if I can get my hands on two or three a year.” Waldo explained.   
  
Harry looked at the tree. There was no denying that it was a beautiful piece of nature, but on reflection the cobalt blue of the pine needles was slightly too bright, and he found his eyes starting to ache just from looking at it. Plus, he wanted to hang baubles, tinsel and lights from the tree; how could they do that with a tree that was already lit up.   
  
“Sorry, Waldo, but this tree’s already too bright - it’s lit up already! We kinda wanted our first Christmas alone together to have us decorating the tree as a Christmas experience. No offence, of course - it’s a beautiful tree.” Ginny replied. Harry glanced over and smiled at her.   
  
To his credit, Waldo simply beamed at them.    
“No worries, no worries at all. The tree doesn’t choose the wizard here - it’s not like old Ollivander’s. The wizard chooses the tree and it didn’t look like this one was meant for you. Let’s see what else I have back here.” He chuckled heartily, and continued onward into his strange indoor forest. Harry relaxed, relieved that Waldo hadn’t been offended by their refusal, and trailed the old man as they picked their way further through the foliage.   
  
It was a strange sensation, Harry thought, to be walking amongst trees indoors. Every now and then he’d catch himself forgetting that they were even inside at all, feeling the smell of leaves and resin infuse into his nostrils: then he’d glance up and realise they were encased under a huge ceiling. He’d been in the magical world for nearly as long as he’d lived outside it; yet after a decade, he remained awed by the scope of the wizarding world.   
  
“How about this fine old specimen here?” Waldo called from up ahead.   
Lost in thought, Harry didn’t process the shopkeeper’s question. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he walked smack-dab into the tree trunk.   
  
“Ow...” Harry muttered, rubbing his head where it had unexpectedly thumped against the bark. The tree, however, seemed to be even more annoyed. It reared backwards and stuck out its top branches, as if puffing out its chest.   
  
“What in the name of Merlin did you do…?” Ginny exclaimed, looking at Harry with a mixture of confusion and exasperation.   
  


“I dunno…” Harry replied, lost for words.   
  


“Quiet, quiet! It’s about to start!” Waldo whispered with a giggle. Both Harry and Ginny turned round to stare at him, but before they could ask what was going on, a deep, distinguished sounding voice boomed out of the tree.  
  
‘ _Have yourself_ _  
__A merry little Christmas_ _  
__Let your heart be light_ _  
__Next year all our troubles_ _  
__Will be out of sight!’_ _  
__  
__‘Have yourself_ _  
__A merry little Chri-’_ _  
__  
_ “That’s quite enough!” chuckled Waldo, reaching forward to rap the trunk of the tree with his walking stick; as soon as he did so, the branches stiffened, and the tree assumed its original rigid posture once more.  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow at Waldo.  
“And I thought I knew magic… then comes along, of all things, a singing Christmas tree!” he laughed. “How on earth did you get hold of that?” he asked.  
  
Waldo blushed slightly, his face creasing with mirth.  
  
“Oh, my wife, rest her soul, thought one winter a singing Christmas tree might be quite a funny thing to have.  This was many, many years ago, you understand, during the war. Our Alfred trotted off to fight the Muggles, you see, thought we must share a responsibility to protect our country with them, and when my wife heard he’d gone, she didn’t take it too well. So I enchanted a Christmas tree to keep her spirits up, you know, remind her that there were still things worth laughing at. When dear Alf got home, all bashed and injured, I put that little tree by his bed as he recovered. To this day, I’ve always sold singing Christmas trees in my shop -  I see them as a wonderful little good luck charm.” Waldo told them. The old shopkeeper coughed, and Harry thought he saw the silvery glint of a tear fall from the man’s eyelid.  
  
“I don’t think our neighbours would be too pleased if we bought home the large singing tree, but if you’ve got a smaller one, maybe something we could put on a windowsill, we’d love that.” Harry replied, smiling warmly at Waldo. He’d been touched by the elderly man’s story of family more than he’d care to admit, and perhaps a little part of him wanted a memento of it.  
  
“That’s a wonderful idea, my dear boy. I certainly have some in the size you’re thinking; what song did you have in mind?” Waldo asked.  
  
“Hmm… Gin, were you thinking of anything?” Harry queried.  
  


“I’m not really sure. I always loved When the Saints Go Marching In, so if you’ve got that, we’d love one of those.” she replied.   
  
Waldo nodded and disappeared around the side of the large, singing tree. He reappeared a few minutes later with a tiny tree, no more than ten inches tall, that fit snugly in a pot in the palm of his hand.   
  
“Here you go, one miniature Wilikins singing tree. I must compliment your taste in Christmas music, Ginny.” he said, handing her the tiny tree. 

“But shall we press onward? After all, you can’t use that little shrimp of a tree as your main festive centerpiece; the presents wouldn’t fit underneath it!” he tittered, motioning for them to follow him. 

Waldo twisted and turned up ahead, walking ever further into the bizarre forest, and Harry was about to ask when on earth they were going to stop when they finally came to a halt in front of another pine tree. The tree itself was curiously small; Harry estimated it was barely over seven feet in height. Yet the tree still commanded that quiet, grand, almost regal presence of a tree ten times its size.   
  
“This is our ‘back to basics’ model. No fuss, no mess, just an ordinary tree with a bit of extraordinary magic. You see, besides the obligatory needle-cleaning and de-sticking spells, this particular tree has a special feature…” With a flourish, Waldo flicked his wand at the tree’s lower trunk. As Harry watched, little white snowdrop flowers began to sprout all over the tree, their centres glowing with yellow light. Yet this wasn’t the harsh, overbearing brightness of the sapphire pine they’d seen earlier. The light emanating from the snowdrop flowers was soft, a dim yellow that reminded Harry of hot chocolate, of knitted blankets and watching snow flurries from a window. Beside him, Ginny grabbed his hand.   
  
“It’s absolutely  _ perfect _ .” she enthused. Harry was a little choked up and simply nodded.   
  


“You like it?” asked Waldo, smiling genially at their wondrous expressions.   
  
“I love it. It’s beautiful - we’ll take it.” Harry said without a moment’s hesitation. Waldo simply beamed at him.   
“I had a feeling that this tree might have suited you two.” he replied, and pointed his wand at the base of the pot the tree was planted in.   
  
_ “Wingardium Leviosa!”  _ he exclaimed, and the tree rose off the floor, bobbing beside him. He turned to Harry and Ginny, who were still gazing up at the tree.   
“Come on back to the counter; I’ll get you the tree, then you can get home and start preparing for the Yuletide season!” he winked at them.   
  
Twenty minutes later, they were back at the counter where they’d first walked in, Waldo slid behind the counter and started jotting something down on a sheaf of parchment. As if on autopilot, Harry pulled out his money bag.   
  
“How much do we owe you then, Waldo?” he asked the old man. Waldo looked back at him, eyes wide with surprise, then shook his head vehemently.   
  
“Owe me? Nonsense, Mr. Potter; it’s me who owes you. You saved our world; the least I can do is give you a Christmas tree. Besides, I’m always happy to promote the Christmas spirit amongst the community.” Waldo responded, winking at Harry.   
“I daresay you’ll be back next year, though?” he continued, eyes twinkling.   
  
Harry looked at Ginny, and she smiled back at him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and turned back to face Waldo.   
“You can count on it, Mr. Wilkins.” Harry grinned back. “Thank you for the tree.”   
“Ach, don’t mention it, dear boy. See you next year. And please, call me Waldo.” the shopkeeper waved. Ginny nodded her thanks, and together they left Wilikins’ Arboreal Emporium, their snowdrop tree gliding behind them under Harry’s watchful  _ Wingardium Leviosa. _ _  
_ _  
_ They trudged out onto the snowy cobbles, and for a moment, neither Harry nor Ginny said anything; they simply basked in the contented silence and soft light of Whimsic Alley. As they turned back onto Diagon Alley, Harry turned to Ginny, and gently kissed the top of her forehead. She looked at him, with those gorgeous brown eyes, and Harry, operating purely on instinct, leaned in for a kiss. Their lips met, in the same way they had been for years; yet Harry still felt a rush of electricity, a hot, sweet explosion, every single time they kissed. He stroked her hair back behind her ear as she cupped his face in her hands. It was divine, it was amazing, and Harry never wanted the kiss to end.   
  
Suddenly, a  _ crunch  _ and a loud  _ whoomp  _ sound broke them apart. The  _ Wingardium Leviosa  _ spell, evidently struggling to maintain itself with Harry’s distracted kiss, had failed altogether, and the tree fell noisily onto the cobbles, scattering pine needles everywhere. Ginny slapped her hand over her mouth, torn between amusement and the fear that they’d damaged their Christmas tree within ten minutes of owning it. Harry cast a hasty  _ Wingardium Leviosa,  _ and the tree righted itself. As they watched, the broken pine needles repaired themselves and zoomed back onto the branches - within ten seconds, the tree was as good as new.   
  
Harry chuckled softly and drew Ginny close to him.   
“What a start to the Christmas season, eh, Gin?” he smiled, ruffling her hair gently.   
“That’s you, Harry Potter; an engine of destruction wherever you go. It’s just as well I love you.” she smirked back. “We haven’t even gotten Christmas presents yet!”   
  
In response, Harry looked down at her face and sighed contentedly. The cold air was introducing a pink blush to her cheeks that made her nose and freckles look irresistibly cute. Ginny was wrong - she was already the best Christmas present he could ever hope for.   
  
  
  



End file.
